Young Enough to Play, Old Enough to Feel
by Rosie5
Summary: Based on the recent film; Peter Pan was notorious for never wanting to grow up, but he couldn't stand the thought of Wendy growing up without him. Can he give up the life of Never Never Land? But what happens when his home is in danger and he must return?
1. Winter Rain

_**Summary: **__Based on the recent film; Peter Pan was notorious for never wanting to grow up. He wanted to stay young and play with the Lost Boys on the enchanting island of Never Never Land. However, after being separated from his Wendy once Hook had gone, Peter began to realise that he couldn't stay a child forever, neither could he stand the thought of Wendy growing up without him … can he give up the life of Never Never Land for Wendy? What happens when he returns to London to grow up in secret? Will she even recognise him?_

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own the book by JM Barrie, nor do I own the film._

_**Author's Note: **__Hello, this is based more on the film than the books, which I have recently fallen in love with. I imagine my Peter in this story as Jeremy Sumpter (who played him in the film) but about six years older. Wendy, you can imagine for yourselves! Please review! I love them!_

**Chapter 1 **

_Winter Rain_

Peter Pan sat on the low branch of a honey suckle tree, watching dawn breaking over the island, Tinkerbell snoozing by his side. The sun danced over the crashing waves on the shore, dancing on the ship-less horizon. Since Hook's demise, there was not so much as a trace of a couple of stray pirates, whom Peter occasionally crossed swords with,but with none of the enjoyment he once had. Fighting and playing had since lost it's spark, had since become rather … boring. Boring without Wendy.

Wendy had to go home, had to grow up, he knew that now. But what of the Lost Boys? Those that went with her? Only a few remained to play with and to share adventures with. With Hook gone, there was no fun. Peter had to admit it; despite a hidden fear that was always there when Hook was alive, Peter had enjoyed their fights, their traps and sparring. The fear had always disappeared when he became supremely confident that he would always win, always come out on top, beating the old man in just another game. Now that was to be no more. And not even Wendy was here to change that. He wouldn't even hear her stories again.

For Peter had forbidden himself to go back again; seeing them all again as a family was too raw. The first time he had gone back was the last; they had told stories and played, but Peter knew that it could not last and did not wish to watch it slip away, visit by visit. He did not want to see their happiness and to be on the outside of it. He expected that Wendy would be sad when he did not go back to her window, but believed that she would eventually forget, as all adults do in the end. He had once told her that he never wanted to feel love, but now, he yearned for it.

Tinkerbell stretched by his side, flexing her wings. She gave him a contemptuous look.

"Yes, of course I'm thinking about London," he replied gloomily.

She tutted.

"Don't you tut at me."

She made a face consisting of mooneyes and long floaty hair; her Wendy impression.

"Shut up."

Tink smiled in an astonishing fashion that could only mean "touchy".

"You're not funny."

She hopped off the log, shrugging and wandered away. Peter frowned. He couldn't bear the thought of Wendy and everyone else growing up without him. He didn't really want to get older, but if he didn't, everyone else would, if they were not here. Being here alone was not as much fun as he used to think it would be.

Peter made up his mind in a second. He would go back ... but he would not let her see him until he had grown up a bit. Then, she was bound to be impressed! How long could growing up really take? Surely only a couple of weeks, he could leave this boredom for that amount of time. Nothing really happened any more; no pirates roamed the lands, the Indians had lost their fun and the Mermaids had all swam on to more exciting waters. The only thing here was Tinkerbell, and she was often sulky, as he was.

No, Peter was off for London. That was his plan. Children often make irrational decisions, with no real plan. Peter was one of those children.

"TINK!" he bellowed over his shoulder. "I'm going away for a little while. See you when I get back."

She pulled a face.

"Yes, London. And don't look at me like that."

He jumped up, soared off the branch of the honey suckle tree, and sped into the sky as fast a lightening.

_six years later_

"There we are now, my darling girl, that suits you nicely, doesn't it?"

Wendy struggled to answer, being so short of breath due to the stifling corset she was entombed in. She surveyed herself in the standing mirror and crinkled her nose.

"There! What do you think?" asked her Aunt with excitement.

"It's … it's … hard to say."

Wendy held not the kind of vivacious enthusiasm for dressing up in ladies clothes as her Aunt did on these occasions when she relished seeing Wendy dressed as a lady.

"What's hard to say about it? Wendy, dear, you look absolutely ravishing!"

"That's what worries me," Wendy muttered in an undertone, careful enough so her Aunt would not hear her. Wendy worried so of becoming a lady, of growing up. Since her adventures with Peter Pan in Never Never Land had ended, she realised she would have to do it soon. It had been six years since his last visit, since she had last seen his face, the dirty blond tousled hair, those sparkling blue eyes, the cheeky grin. He had not returned after that, not once. Wendy tried to rationalize this behaviour a few times; perhaps time travelled differently in Never Never Land, or perhaps Peter was simply having too much fun. Wendy quickly dismissed the idea that he had been hurt; that would never happen. Peter did not get hurt. And if it did, he never let it get in the way of his adventures.

"Wendy, my dear, you look vacant again."

"Sorry, Aunt. I'm just a little hungry. Do you think we could eat soon?"

"Oh, yes, I suppose so," she said, a little disappointed that Wendy was tired of trying on clothes. "I shall go and check. I wonder if those boys of ours are hungry before we head out to town." She was of course referring to the Lost Boys whom they had adopted six years ago.

Wendy plucked at her new gown, it felt far too tight, like it was stifling her from the inside out. Her Aunt returned shortly.

"Isn't this a wonderful treat, Wendy?" burst her Aunt. "Having a shopping trip! And your mother with us as well! How lucky we are!"

Wendy smiled falsely.

After a hasty lunch, they visited numerous shops in which Mrs Darling and her sister dressed her in numerous gowns of varying colours and sizes, occasionally saying things like, "what a smashing fit!" and, "oh, what a lady!" Wendy soon grew tired of this, but was fairly accomplished at hiding the fact that she would rather be back in her pirate outfits and playing in the nursery with her brothers.

As they were walking back through an Autumnal London street, Mrs Darling began talking feverishly once more, as she often did.

"Wendy, my love, we shall have to buy you a new wardrobe to fit all of these beautiful new presents your kind Aunt has bought you! What colour wardrobe do you think you shall like? One that will need to match your walls, as you shall have a new bedroom – oh! We forgot to tell you, you are to have a bedroom all to yourself before long, you won't have to share with your brothers! Your new room will have pretty pictures, and we can arrange a new pink bed spread and …"

Wendy had stopped listening. They did not care to think for a moment that she did not want a new bedroom, though now seventeen-year-old ladies did not usually share with their brothers. Wendy wanted it to continue forever. With a new room, she would be isolated, cut off from their fun. She hated growing up.

The wind had begun to blow, rusting the orange treetops, blowing stray papers about the grey pavement. Rain began to fall lightly; more of drizzle, making the dreary world appear even greyer. Wendy drew her cloak around her, clutching her hat on to save it from blowing away in the gathering wind.

She looked at the people around her to save her listening to Mrs Darling's life talk about becoming an adult. Dull people in suits bustled past, dark grey, navy blue, black. How boring. Then Wendy turned her head. She did not know why, or what possessed her to, for if she had not done so at that precise moment, then she would have missed him. A boy, an inexplicably familiar boy, walked past on the opposite side of the road, head down as she caught his eye, as though she had been watching her. The boy was roughly her own age with blond hair, so different from all the black around him, yet seemed to blend so easily into the crowd, as though he were used to it. No sooner had she thought this notion, he was gone, like a shadow. She stopped and looked around again, trying to catch his distinguishable head, but there was nothing.

"Wendy? Wendy!"

She turned and found her mother and Aunt looking worried.

"What on earth are you doing?" they asked.

"I – I thought I lost my glove," she pretended, still looking about her. Perhaps she had imagined it.

"Well let us get home! We shall all catch a terrible chill in this ghastly weather."

And they walked briskly back home, Wendy still looking over her shoulder for the vanishing boy.


	2. Through the Veil

**_                                                             Peter Pan _**

**_Summary: _**_Based on the recent film; Peter Pan was notorious for never wanting to grow up. He wanted to stay young and play with the Lost Boys on the enchanting island of Never Land. However, after being separated from his Wendy once Hook had gone, Peter began to realise that he couldn't stay a child forever, neither could he stand the thought of Wendy growing up without him … can he give up the life of Never Land for Wendy? What happens when he returns to London to grow up in secret? Will she even recognise him? But something happens, which causes his need to return to his homeland … _

**_Disclaimer: _**_I do not own the book by JM Barrie, nor do I own the film._

**_Author's Note: _**_Hello, thanks to everyone who reviewed! I love you all! **Gilded mouse**, I shall continue, never fear! **Jexy Baby**, you will learn more here, **Liz**, (wow) thanks for your long review, I read it at least 3 times! Everyone else who reviewed, thank you so much! Here's the next chappie. _

- - - **Chapter Two **- - - 

          Peter sat hunched miserably in a cold dark corner in the streets of London. He had managed to find some clothes to wear a good while ago; London was full of scraps and things as Peter rapidly found out and he had been sensible enough to realise his outfit of leaves may alarm the adult people inhabiting London these days. He knew that he had seen Wendy the day before or perhaps before that, but found that he could not go to her. She had looked right through him like he was just another one of these foolish Londoners with no sense of fun, as though she no longer remembered, as though she had truly forgotten, and this thought made him even more miserable. Peter had no idea how long he had been in London; time passed differently here to that of Never Land, he had found. It seemed an awfully long time, yet perhaps that had something to do with is misery. He knew he must have grown up sufficiently to be roughly Wendy's age, give or take a little either end, but going to back to her as he had planned was proving a more difficult task than he had originally perceived. 

          More than once, Peter had believed the whole thing to be a waste of his time and he should return to Never Land at once; Tinkerbell would surely be missing him … but that was all he had left in Never Land. There was no Hook to challenge, no Lost Boys to play with, nothing. What a mess he had made. If only he had gone with them that time, if only he had joined the family, but his pride had overtaken him. He could look after himself, could he not? He needed no mother, nor father, nor proper home or school. Never Land was just fine … but on his own?

          He didn't attempt to test the theory erupting in his head, but Peter knew, without trying, that he had forgotten how to fly. He had no happy thoughts left anymore. He did not want to try, and fail, therefore proving himself right. This was one time he did not wish to be wise or clever. With a miserable sigh, he contented himself in his corner and settled for watching the strange folk moving about London. Adults truly were mysterious people.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

          She had seen the boy again, sauntering off in the opposite direction, trying not to be noticed. Wendy tried to follow, and saw, to her surprise, that he disappeared around the corner and down the street she least wished to see him go down. That was Davenport Lane, and it was notoriously dangerous. All pickpockets and criminals were said to inhabit in that lane; it was a regular second home for the law enforcers of London. She stopped on the edge of the lane, biting her lip.

          "Wendy! Come away from there at once!" chided Mrs Darling concernedly, seizing her daughter's hand and steering her through the crowd. 

          The familiarity of the boy was beginning to grow heavy on Wendy's mind, though she could not fathom why. It bothered her for some reason, a reason she knew not. Despite her apprehension, Davenport Lane was where he would doubtlessly be, and there she should go, if the heavy weight on her mind was to be lifted.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

          Wendy had dully noted that throughout the routine of her day, it was fairly impossible to slip away anywhere going unnoticed. There was hardly any time in the morning and once at school, it was near the unfeasible to assume one could simply "leave" the eyes of the teachers at school. The walk home from school with John and Michael was at least 20 minutes walk from school to home; perhaps even longer if the Lost Boys were in trouble again, which was more than likely, as Wendy was instructed to wait for them lest they get into any more trouble on the walk home. Once home she would be under the eyes of mother, father and Aunt Millicent alike. The only time for a possible excursion was surely after school. 

          "Wendy, we must wait for Slightly," muttered John at the school gates.

          "And what did he do this time?" said Wendy.

          "He set fire to Tootles' ears," said Michael indifferently. 

          "_Again_?" Wendy said.

          "Yes."

          "What on earth possessed him to do that?" 

          Michael screwed up his face, as if recollecting something. "Well, we think he was trying to recreate a historical period in time when one … sets alight to another's ears …"

          Wendy sighed deeply, and tapped her foot on the railings. It was threatening to rain again; black thunderheads rolled across the open sky as happened so often during the winter months. 

          "How long are we to wait?" she said sullenly.

          "Miss Slake shall keep him behind for twenty and one minutes."

          "Oh, for heavens sake," Wendy said exasperatedly. "There is something I must do. John, as the eldest after myself, you must walk the boys home today."

          "What must you do?" said John with a suspicious air. Since he had grown up slightly, John had become a great deal more cautious of people.

          "That is not your concern. Please, do as I ask?"

          John narrowed his eyes but nodded resolutely. Wendy smiled and slipped away.          

          "I shall not be long!" she called over her shoulder. But this was a lie already in motion. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

          Wendy stood for a long time at the foot of Davenport Lane, her fear threatening to get the better of her. Perhaps she had imagined it; perhaps she did not really know the boy she had seen once or twice at all, a silly notion in her head that made her mix people up. She was only a girl after all, and girls often did things like that. But the face popped into her head more than once, and she found her feet moving closer into the lane. 

          Many folk skirted the area, feeling that if they got too close, they may catch something that must obviously infest the criminals in Davenport Lane; why else would they act the way they did? It must have something to do with their lodgings.

          Davenport Lane was narrow and cobbled with tall and unstructured grey buildings looming from either side. There was an odd smell, like rotten food, which Wendy was not entirely used to. Suddenly, as though she knew he would be there all along, a head appeared in front of her, bobbing slightly in the crowd. She knew it must belong to the mysterious boy whom she had come here intending to find, intending to recognise from somewhere, so she followed. 

          He took many twists and turns, in and out of alleyways, through various doorways, until Wendy looked behind her and found that she did not know where she was. _No point in going back now, Wendy,_ she told herself sternly, _or else you shall have gotten yourself foolishly lost for nothing._ The crowd thinned now, though the boy was a good way ahead of her, and she continued to follow. He disappeared through a veil slung over a building, which appeared in danger of falling down if struck with something heavy, and the fabric rippled behind him. Wendy took one last glance behind her, and followed him in.

          Once inside, the bustle of feet from outside seemed to vanish instantly. The silence was heavy around her, and Wendy began to feel apprehensive. What on earth had possessed her to follow a stranger? And down Davenport Lane of all lanes? What on earth would mother think?

          There sounded a creak of something behind her. Wendy turned sharply, her heart beating fast, but there was no one there. No sooner had she turned back around, a hand from behind had closed tightly around her mouth, preventing her from drawing breath. 

          "Don't scream," said a soft voice in her ear.

          Wendy had jumped so much from the unsuspected attack that she did not react instantly.

          The voice prompted an answer. "Promise?"

          Wendy nodded, shaking her head up and down. 

          "Now if I take my hand away, you must then turn slowly around and … and not scream."

          Wendy frowned. Who was this person to order her around and tell her what to do? Who was he, (she assumed it was a he,) to attack her and then call the rules? How dare he even attack her in the first place? She should fight back! She had learned that much …

          As the pressure lifted slightly on her face, Wendy snapped her head backwards and hit her assailant in the face. He staggered backwards slightly and she used a technique learned a long time ago to drive him even further back with the edge of her right foot, so he toppled over. As all this was happening, Wendy cast a look around her and spotted a cutlass (of all things in a ruined house) lying on a shelf behind her. She seized in and thundered down next to the boy on the floor, fist raised, ready to strike, to hurt, to defend herself – 

          He grasped her wrist with surprising strength, and Wendy knew there was no use against someone obviously older and stronger than herself but she continued to struggle – until she looked into his eyes. 

          They were forget-me-not blue, piercing and dazzling even in the dim light. His eye contact caused her to stop the struggle, and he released her wrist the second she did so. His hair was light and fairly long and tousled, though untidily so, and Wendy noticed that he was dressed in the strangest array of clothes; a large black jacket which was miles too big for him, was all he wore on his torso, and was torn here and there revealing cold flesh, and once beige torn trousers, now smudged grey, which appeared never to have been washed. 

          The boy blinked, and with a lurch of recognition, Wendy dropped the cutlass, which clattered to the floor. 

          "Wendy – "

          It was Peter Pan. And he had grown up. 

**A/N:** Oh the cleverness of … well, JM Barrie I guess for creating lil Peter. Has anyone actually seen the film? Cos I have and it's totally spanking. Anyway, that's the end of this chapter, so if you would be so incredibly kind and REVIEW!!!! Then perhaps I shall write some more … (don't worry, I will write regardless of whether or not no one loves me, as it is all I am any good at.) The sadness of my life. Haha. *Puts hands together and begs for reviews*. 


	3. Winged Messenger

**_                                                             Peter Pan _**

**_Summary: _**_Based on the recent film; Peter Pan was notorious for never wanting to grow up. He wanted to stay young and play with the Lost Boys on the enchanting island of Never Land. However, after being separated from his Wendy once Hook had gone, Peter began to realise that he couldn't stay a child forever, neither could he stand the thought of Wendy growing up without him … can he give up the life of Never Land for Wendy? What happens when he returns to London to grow up in secret? Will she even recognise him? But something happens, which causes his need to return to his homeland … without him, Neverland will never survive … _

**_Disclaimer: _**_I do not own the book by JM Barrie, nor do I own the film._

**_Author's Note: _**_I have seen the movie again! Yes, second time lucky. I loved it. Lil Jeremy is so … sweet! Anyway, thanks again for the reviews! Here is Chapter 3._

- - - **Chapter Three **- - -       

            Wendy blinked. She actually screwed up her eyes and shook her head to make sure that she was not dreaming, as she had dreamt of this for so long. It was the most curious sensation that she had ever felt; she knew it had been Peter, all along she knew, but the single idea of it had been so inconceivably impossible that she had dismissed it immediately without even thinking about it. But here he stood, with his eyes the same as ever, older.

            "Peter …" 

            Peter's breathing was erratic, as though he had not expected her to fight back. His eyes were wide, frightened. 

            "Peter, what … what on earth – ?" 

            "Wendy," he breathed, his breathing slowing down, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "That's who you are … isn't it?"

            "Yes, yes it is, Peter … what's happened … you've …"

            Peter's brow was furrowed. 

            "You've grown up," she finished in a small voice. 

            Peter's eyes widened again instantly, as though the notion of what had happened offended him. "Not really!" he said. 

            Wendy looked at him more closely. The baby fat around his cheeks had gone, his chin slightly more defined than it had once been perhaps, his shoulders a little fuller, but his eyes and hair were still the same as they had always been. 

"Well, maybe not all the way … but you have changed!"

            Peter frowned. "Only a little," he added, defiant, as always. "You are different to how you were."

            Wendy moved forwards slightly, to look at him more closely. Slowly, she reached her hand out towards him to touch his face, test his realness, but he moved back like a frightened animal away from her. 

            "How?" she said distantly, looking at the boy who was now roughly still the same age as herself; it seemed impossible, yet somehow it had happened. "How when you've been in Neverland all this time?"

            Peter looked away. "I … I haven't."

            "You haven't …"

            "Been in Neverland."

            Wendy stared at him. "You've … you've not been in Neverland?"

            Peter shook his head. 

            Wendy looked away, towards the veil she had passed through minutes before. "But – where then have you been?"

            Peter shrugged, to prove her indifference meant nothing to him. "Here."

            "_Here_? As in London?"

            "Is there another _here_?" he asked, genuinely, not aware of his surroundings nor that what he had said sounded remotely sarcastic.

            "Why have you been here, Peter? And for how long?" she said, surprised at this sudden revelation which, realising that had she known before, would have changed her entire life. 

            "Just a little while. Just after you left Neverland." 

He retreated further into the darkness and sat down on what looked like an upturned bucket, his knees hugged up to his chest, playing with his cutlass, like a boy. Wendy braced herself with the shock of what must have happened, and moved slowly over to him.

            "Peter … that was a very long time ago."

            "No, it was not," was his retort. "Just long enough. We are the same age and that was my plan."

            "Peter … I left Neverland six years ago."

            The weight of this sentence fell heavy on the two of them, Wendy coming to terms with it herself, Peter staring up at her as though she were a pirate.  Sympathy filled her like a jug filling with water, increasing all the while; he must have had no sense of time at all … he did not really know how much he had grown up.

            "No, you did not," he said flatly, as though he were always right and there was no changing that.

            "Y – yes, I did …"

            "No, you did not! You must not lie; not when I have come back here! For you –"

            "Peter, it's been six years … you've grown up … you must have forgotten, or you will have known how long you have been here …"

            "I have _not _forgotten! I remember Neverland! I remember Captain Hook, and how I killed him, and the Indians and the Lost Boys and –" He broke off. 

            "And what?" Wendy prompted gently, not wanting to disrupt his sudden outburst, breaking what must have been a long silence before she came.

            "And they are not there anymore. They are all gone – there was no fun."

            Wendy blinked. "Is that why you came here?"

            "Yes … for adventure – but I couldn't find your window."

            "But you must remember it so well – "

            "No. I thought if I waited for a while, and grew up, I would find it again, or … you would find me …"

            Wendy's eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Peter, I'm so sorry … I didn't know you were here!"

            Peter rubbed his face and stood up, throwing his cutlass up into the air. "It does not matter," though he knew very well it did matter. His pride was bursting out beyond reason, as it had done so much when he was younger. 

Wendy reached into her pocket, and pulled out a very small, ruby encrusted mirror, entrusted to her by Aunt Millicent. She never used it for herself, not being vain, yet now it may come in useful, and bring some reality to Peter.

            She held it out in her hands.  

            "What is that?" he asked.

            "Look into it Peter," she said. "And see for yourself."

            He moved slowly towards her, as though it were some trick, but as he became closer, he saw his reflection; only it was not his reflection. The person starring back at him was almost a man. Peter blinked to clear the image, to see his boyish face once again, as he had done so many times in the reflection of the water in Neverland, but it did not come back. The man was still there. He gingerly touched his face, his hair and leapt backwards.

            "That is not me."

            "Yes, it is Peter."

            "I will not look at it! You think you know who I am, now? Now you are here? You think you can show me things and make me believe tricks?"

            Wendy put the mirror back in her pocket, thinking herself a tad insensitive. It was silly showing that; she knew it would have been a shock. If she knew Peter, denying what he did not want to believe was the easiest option. And he was right; she had no right to make things worse.

            "Why did you not return to Neverland, when you could not find the house?"

            "I wanted to wait … until I grew up a little. Then we would be the same age."

            "Peter, this does not make sense –"

            "I could not bear the thought of you becoming older than me."

            This lay heavy in the air, silence returning. Wendy bit her lip – he was so lost … 

            "But I became more lost. And now … now I –"

            "Forgot?" she whispered.

            "Never," he said harshly. 

            Wendy looked away. He would never admit it, but the thought occurred to her that perhaps he could not fly. This filled her with sadness. 

             "What now, Peter?" she asked him, thought she knew he would have no answer. Though older physically, he obviously still had his twelve year old mind, not knowing he had grown up.

            "I don't know."

            "Will you not come back to the house? I can give you some clothes, and food – "

            "I will not ruin a happy family," he said bluntly.

            "But Peter, you wouldn't be ruining it –"

            "No."

            "But …" Wendy felt selfish for asking, but she had to. "Did you not come back for me also?" she said quietly.

            For the first time since their meeting, Peter looked her directly in the eye. Sadness and regret flashed within them. 

            "Yes."

            "So will you not come?"

            He sighed and shook his head. "No. I shall return to Neverland. Now we are the same age."

            "If you go back, we won't stay the same age, Peter. You know that –"

            "Yes, we shall. If we wish it."

            "But … I thought you could not f-"

            "I can! Do not say that."

            Wendy shook her head. "Must I say goodbye to you all over again?"

            Peter put his cutlass down. "Come with me."

            Wendy opened her mouth. "But – but I cannot fly either."

            Peter turned his back on her. 

            "Fine. Go then. I do not care."

            "Peter, I think you do care –"

            "Please leave."

            Wendy turned slowly, tears in her eyes, and left the house only because she knew Peter would still be there tomorrow, when she returned with food, clothes and the Lost Boys.

*** * * * * **

            Wendy did not eat anything that evening. She had proposed to tell the Lost Boys the second she returned home, yet when about to, found her mouth constricted, as she could not think what to say. What she knew almost seemed ridiculously … private. She should be the one to bring Peter back to the way he was; grown up or not, he was still Peter Pan. 

            When the time came to turn in and sleep for the night, Wendy did not sleep. Instead, she waited until her mother had left the room, and lit the candle still smoking. A drawer in the corner was still filled with things of Michael and John's, since they had moved out. There was simply not enough room in the house to keep all of their clothes, so much of it remained in Wendy's room. They hardly wore any of these clothes now anyway, so it would not matter if she took some for Peter …

            She had not bargained on a small fairy hurtling in through her open window and crashing in to her candle, sending them both into the dark. Wendy regained herself enough not to cry out and alert the entire household, as a small part of her brain had known she would always see a fairy again, and although surprised, she knew what it was at once.

            Tinkerbell straightened up and dusted herself off, lighting the candle in one breath. Wendy blinked.

            "Tinkerbell?" she asked.

            Tink made an unmissable "duh" face and nodded. She then flew up to Wendy's ear and tugged slightly on her hair. 

            "Ouch!" Wendy exclaimed. "What are you doing?" 

            Tinkerbell had no answer for pulling Wendy's hair; even though it must have been quite obvious she only did it because she wanted to. But Tink didn't have room for that particular feeling also. She crept closer and whispered in Wendy's ear, barely loud enough for her to hear. 

            _Badness in Neverland … Peter come home!_

            Wendy frowned. "What do you mean, 'badness in Neverland'"? 

            Tink shushed her and continued to whisper.

            _Enemy back! Neverland in trouble!_

            "Neverland is in trouble? But Tink, why now? Why have you come back now?"

            _Peter must come home!_  _Or all will be lost! Must fly! Must fight!_

            "Tinkerbell, I know you are small, but you have to tell me more! I know Peter must go back, but he shall hardly listen to me if I simply repeat myself again!"

            Tink sighed deeply as though she could not believe that Wendy could be so stupid, yet took a deep breath, as much as she could, and spoke as quickly as possible to get it all out in one.

            _Evil enemy back! Neverland will fall if Pan does not come home! Must do it quickly! Must remember! Not much time – fairies dying, Indians dying, Mermaids drowning in poison waters! Peter must come home and face enemy or be too late! Yes, 'tis a trap, 'tis what enemy wants to destroy Peter, but must be done! _  __

            Wendy's mouth suddenly went dry as she realised whom Tinkerbell meant by evil enemy. She looked at Tinkerbell as directly as she could, for the fairies' eyes were so small, and blinked.

            "Tink, you don't mean … you don't mean when you say … Captain Hook?"

            Tinkerbell raised her hands in exasperation and fluttered about. Wendy took it solemnly as a 'yes'.

            "B – but, how?"

            Tink rushed to Wendy and pulled her hair. There was clearly no time to lose. 

            "But I can't go now!" she said. "I shall go in the morning, with the Lost Boys and John and Michael, OK?"

            Tinkerbell rolled her eyes and fluttered out of the window.

            Wendy's heart was thumping. Peter's return and Captain Hook's all in one day? This was not something she had been bargaining on. 

            Realising that sleep was out of the question, Wendy sat on her bed and tried to think of a thousand ways to make Peter Pan remember.

**A/N: **Tootsies! Please oh please review this badger as I really enjoyed writing it!


	4. Close Your Eyes

                                                             **_                                                             Peter Pan _**

**_Summary: _**_Based on the recent film; Peter Pan was notorious for never wanting to grow up. He wanted to stay young and play with the Lost Boys on the enchanting island of Never Land. However, after being separated from his Wendy once Hook had gone, Peter began to realise that he couldn't stay a child forever, neither could he stand the thought of Wendy growing up without him … can he give up the life of Never Land for Wendy? What happens when he returns to London to grow up in secret? Will she even recognise him? But something happens, which causes his need to return to his homeland … without him, Neverland will never survive … _

**_Disclaimer: _**_I do not own the book by JM Barrie, nor do I own the film._

**_Author's Note: _**_Sorry the wait's been so long; I've been swamped with everything. Anyway, I wrote this chapter with the soundtrack, so hopefully it'll kind of fit more with the film! Hopefully the DVD's out on May 4th! So I guess… May the forth be with you._

- - - **Chapter Four **- - - **Close Your Eyes**       

          "Pan?"

          "_Peter _Pan?" 

          "_The _Pan?"

          "I do not believe you, Wendy!"

          "Who's Peter Pan … oh! Him! _Really_?"

          "Yes, I have said it a thousand times! How many more before you'll believe me?"

          "At least twice more. Wendy how – "

          " – I knew you were up to something …"

          "_That's enough_!" Wendy shouted. They were all crowded around her in the nursery, surprised looks on their faces. She had just told them what she had witnessed the day before, and was note prepared for the sea of responses she got. "I have told you all what you need to do, please do not be so childish as to make me repeat it again and again. Here is what we must do."

          "An adventure!" blurted Slightly, unable to contain himself. "No more school!"

          Wendy glared at him. He seemed to crumble under her gaze.

          "Please?" he added as an afterthought. 

          "I suppose," Wendy said. "We must all go together and try to convince Peter to fly back to Neverland."

          "But if he can't fly, then …"

          " … And what did Tink say?"

          "Tinkerbell told me that something was wrong in Neverland. Peter shall have to remember how to fly, or else something terrible will happen."

          "What kind of terrible thing, Wendy?"

          She sighed, her shoulders drooping. "Oh, I dread to think … Hook's back."

          Once again, a storm of responses broke out, some of fear, some denial, some comic, and none heard Michael except Wendy.

          "What was that, Michael?"

          The most common response to Wendy's news, was _how?_ Michael had not asked that, but was looking strangely thoughtful, his hand over his mouth.

          Everyone went quiet, as though Michael was under a spotlight.

          "Go on," Wendy prompted.

          "It … it's in one of the stories … one of the other stories," he said quietly.

          "What do you mean, Michael?"

          "Not the real one of course, but you know how we knew about Hook before we went to Neverland? There was another story about a man who was eaten by a crocodile, except even though it swallowed him whole, it didn't get his soul. That was still floating about."

          "What, like a cloud?" piped in Nibbs.

          "Perhaps," said Michael. "But the soul is so evil and so nasty that it eventually m-mankifusts?" 

          "_Manifests,_ Michael," John aided.

          "So that's how it happened," said Wendy dreamily. "Why have we never read that story?"

          Michael suddenly went red and blushed. "It was in mummy and daddy's room. They keep books we're not supposed to read in there. I suppose it was too scary."

          Wendy smiled. "All right, Michael. Anyway, boys, now we know what's happened, how are we going to sort it out? I'll take any suggestions you have."

***^*^*^*^*^*^*^**

          Fully laden with clothes, new ideas and food, the children set out into the busy main street of London that evening. They were lucky in terms of being caught; Mr and Mrs Darling were at a work dinner, and Aunt Millicent was asleep in the sitting room. Despite this, all kept to the shadows, and stepped as quietly as they could. Wendy felt even more scared of turning down Davenport Lane this time; even though she had a great deal more company than last time, she was worried of how Peter would react to seeing her again.

          They reached the small shack, covered still by the thin hanging veil, swaying slightly in the evening breeze. Wendy poked her head carefully inside first, seeing nothing but darkness. As her eyes adjusted more, she drew back the veil and entered fully. One by one, the Lost Boys followed by John and Michael followed her. There was plainly no one here. Wendy's heart began to beat very fast. Where on earth was he? Had something terrible happened? Maybe he had forgotten her already …

          But before she could think on these thoughts, something rushed at the wall of boys, knocking them flying. This 'something' was brandishing a cutlass, swinging it back and forth dangerously. The Lost Boys, on instinct none of them had lost since their Neverland days, took up the fight, but were soon falling with bruised faces, arms and legs. There were grunts of pain and surprise, and in no less than ten seconds, everyone except Wendy was lying in a crumpled heap on the floor.

          They all looked at their attacker, and found it to be none other than Peter, whose face broke into sudden recognition.

          "Lost Boys?"

          "Peter!"

          They all burst into great laughter, the Lost Boys standing up again, only to fall over with heaving gasps, Peter smiled so broadly it hurt, as it was something he had not done for a long time. They plainly thought it was a game.

          "Peter, why did you attack us?" asked the Twins when the laughter ceased.

          "I thought you were trying to steal my shelter," Peter said plainly.

          The grin vanished quickly from Peter's face, only to be replaced by the immovable sadness that had been there only moments before.

          "Peter why didn't you see us?" asked Nibbs.

          "I – I don't know …"

          "Did you forget?" asked Slightly.

          "Of course not."

          "It's OK if you did Peter … but you remember us now, don't you?"

          "I did not forget!"

          "Peter …" Wendy walked up to him slowly.

          Peter's eyes flashed. First, she thought they were in anger, but much later on, Wendy would read it as something else. "You came back," he said quietly.

          "Yes."

          "Even though I told you to go away."

          "Yes."

          "That's not very polite, Peter," said Michael loudly. 

          Wendy rolled her eyes. "We've all come with the hope of making you return to Neverland."

          Peter turned his back on them. 

          "I saw Tinkerbell last night."

          Peter spun around. "Tink! Is she all right? I miss her so much …"

          "Then return!"

          "I cannot! I don't know how!"

          "We'll help you Peter," piped up the Lost Boys, and Wendy smiled. 

          "What did Tink say?" asked Peter.

          Wendy looked down. "She said there was trouble in Neverland, Peter."

          "Trouble?"

          "Yes, you see … Captain Hook is back."

          Peter frowned, narrowed his eyes, looked to the Lost Boys, and grinned. "That will not work," he said.

          "What do you mean?"

          "I know what you're trying to do."

          "But Peter, it's the truth … Neverland will be in ruins if you do not go back! You cannot let Hook take over your home! Nor let down those that live there!"

Peter sighed. "Whether you lie or not, it's not my home anymore. He can have it."

          "Peter!" Nibbs exclaimed.

          "Peter, this isn't you," Wendy said sadly. "The real Peter Pan would not talk like this."

          "I cannot fly Wendy," he said shortly. The Lost Boys gasped.

          "Pan, not fly?"

          "_Peter _Pan? That's not right …"

          "I know, Peter," Wendy said gently. "I can see that, but we're here to help! If only we had some fairy dust …"

          And in that exact moment, there was a tingle of bells, and a sudden burst of light. Tinkerbell had flown into the dark shack and lit up everyone's surprised faces. Peter's expression was one of joy.

          "Tink!" he yelled.

          But she didn't stay; all she did was cover all of them in sparkly fairy dust. Then she was gone. To their sudden amazement, everyone rose a few feet into the air and hovered for a few seconds … all of them, except Peter. He stared around in disbelief at them all, then looked down at his own body. Nothing happened. The joy that had erupted in everyone else at the thought of flying eventually evaporated as Peter's sadness caught wind. 

          "Oh, Peter …"

          Peter turned his back on them, not wanting them to see any tears. Peter Pan did not cry. 

          "I have no happy thoughts left," he mumbled thickly.

          Slightly huffed. "What about birthdays?"

          "Or Indians?" suggested Nibbs.

          "I've got it!" exclaimed Tootles. "Cake!"

          Peter looked crestfallen. Nothing could make him remember how to fly. Except …

          "Lost Boys, and you too, brothers, I want you to go home and write a _tasteful_ note to mother and father."

          They all frowned. "What on earth for?"

          "Tell them that we had to leave home for a little while to sort some things out … some things that couldn't wait. And mind you make it literate, John," she added. 

          "But what are you going to do? We can't go anywhere if Peter …"

          "I have an idea," she said simply. They raised their eyebrows and left, confused. Wendy turned back to Peter.

          "Peter, you must fly! You must fight!" she said animatedly. 

Peter shook his head. "I can't, Wendy. Not even fairy dust can help me now. I have no happy thoughts."

          Wendy moved closer. She could see tears glistening in the corner of his eyes, threatening to fall; she knew he would never let them, not now he was so much older … 

          "Am I not your happy thought?" she said quietly. Peter blinked. 

          "I – I never really … thought about it like that," he said.

          "Not once?" she prompted. 

          "Well … I suppose, you are … yes …" he said.

          "And did you not come back for me?" she said, and moved still closer. Had he still been a boy, Peter would have jumped back in alarm. But he was not that anymore, and did not know what to do.

          "Yes … but so you would come back with me …"

          "To Neverland?"

          "Yes."

          "To your home?"

          " … Yes …"

          "So will you not come back with me now? And fight Hook?" she said, seeing the lure of adventure in his eyes. 

          "I want to," he said. "But I can't."

          "I can help you," she said quietly. Peter frowned.

          "How?"

          "You must close your eyes."

          Peter eyed her warily, but then did so, screwing them up tight, as though something was about to hit him in the face. Taking a deep breath, Wendy bent forwards gently, and lightly touched his lips with hers. He immediately opened his eyes in shock, but did not move for sheer astonishment. They stayed where they were for about five seconds, until Wendy drew back slowly. 

          To both their bewilderment and delight, they were floating in the air, ten feet off the dusky floor. Peter looked at Wendy, his eyes shining.

          "How did you … ?"

          But Wendy had no answer. All she knew was that they had grown up a great deal. Peter's eyes suddenly gleamed with the boyish rogue-ness they had once had in times of adventure, and he darted out of the shack and soared around the rooftops as gracefully and as daringly as if he had never forgotten. Wendy laughed in delight, and it was all her doing.

          "What do we do now?" Wendy called up gleefully.

          Peter somersaulted in the air, and landed softly in front of her. 

          "Next stop, home," was all he said. 

**A/N: **There we go! Hopefully the next chapter won't take as long. Well, please review! I shall promise a little dance if you do … (nothing kinky I swear.)


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